


Carnal Synchronicity

by AidaRonan



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky being loved all over because I need him to have that right now, Creampie, Degrading language but used lovingly and consensually, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Drooling, Light Masochism, M/M, Some mild self-cest, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Steve Rogers, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-18 12:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18699493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidaRonan/pseuds/AidaRonan
Summary: I'd write a real eloquent summary but it'd be spoilery for people who subjected themselves to Avengers: What The Fuck, Seriously, That's the Film?So instead here's me telling you that this story involves Bucky Barnes getting fucked by two different versions of Steve Rogers, and let's be real, that's all you really need to know.AKA A Tale of Two SteviesAKA Menage a On Va Voir





	Carnal Synchronicity

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel gave me two Steves in one scene and really thought I wouldn't? lmaooooo
> 
> If you're wondering about 2019 Steve's outfit, it's based off [this concept art.](https://twitter.com/srgtbxrnes/status/1123783550778662915?s=19)

The house is quiet, or at least as quiet as a house can be in New York City. A few honks float in from the street and there’s a siren in the distance. But it’s all background, fading in behind the gentle hum of the ceiling fan and the loud purr of Asimov sunning in the living room window.

Bucky breathes deep and exhales on the soft leather couch, trying to let go of that sick feeling inside of him, that one he felt when he stood on the platform and watched Steve disappear, so very sure somehow that he wasn’t coming back ever again.

But he had come back, two hours later and covered in soot and blood, the temporal GPS sparking and smoking on his hand before he ripped it off and flung it to the ground, nearly falling into Bucky’s arms.

“Stevie, I thought,” Bucky said, gripping Steve too tight, like he was afraid his prediction would come true after all if he let go. “I thought… Carter.”

Hands on his face, thumbs stroking soot across his cheekbones.

“In another life, Buck, maybe. But this one belongs to you.” And then Steve kissed him fiercely with a mouth that tasted like ashes and love and home.

Bucky inhales again, exhales, wishes just a little that cats were at least five percent more like dogs, that they’d come curl up on your chest when you clicked your tongue just so. But Asimov sleeps on, same as he did five years ago when Bucky found him sniffing around his hut in Wakanda.

Apparently Steve kept him after the snap, spoiled him on fresh fish and chicken, and got him a cat tree that nearly stretches floor to ceiling.

The front door opens and shuts with a quiet click—two sets of footprints on the stairs. Probably Sam. Maybe Thor or Wanda.

“Wait up there. I’ll bring him up,” Steve says, and Bucky’s brow furrows. The house has two floors, and the way it’s been remodeled means that the lower level is living space with a closet of a guest room and a small half bath. The upper level is the master bed and bath only.

Bucky sits up to watch Steve walk into the room, a sight that never gets old. He’s developed some kind of a sense of style in the past five years, wearing too-tight henley shirts and jeans that scream “dad” but somehow make his legs look a mile long.

But he’s not wearing those right now. He’s in a suit, a prototype Bucky glimpsed during some attempt at a post-Thanos debrief in a backup facility. Steve’s never worn it in the field, until today apparently. It’s all black from head to toe, beautifully tight on his waist, thighs and, presumably, ass just like the old suit. There’s a barely-noticeable black Avengers A slapped on his chest, black fingerless leather adorning each hand. Christ and the harness too—black leather with a hint of sheen drawing Bucky’s eyes to the span of Steve’s massive shoulders.

Bucky swallows. Why did someone have to pop in for a visit when Steve looks like an entire four course meal? All he wants to do is slide off the couch and rub his face on Steve’s crotch.   
  
“How you feeling?” Steve asks, resting his hands on his belt buckle because he hates Bucky having normal heart and lung functions.

“Coming down. I know it’s- You didn’t actually leave. You were never even going to, but the thought of it after all this is-”

“Buck, sometimes it feels like all we do is lose each other. You got a right to worry about it. It’s not exactly without reason.”   
  
Bucky nods. It’s true. From the second Bucky hugged Steve and walked away back at the Stark Expo, all they’ve done is say good-bye, if they even got the chance to do that. 

“Who’s here keeping me from taking all that off of you?” Bucky doesn’t even try to be subtle about the way he looks at Steve, slowly raking his eyes up and down him. It would take his mind off this weird grief spiral he’s in over a thing that never even happened, that’s for sure.

And really, the uniform is exactly the same as all Steve’s other uniforms, but something about the all black is really really doing it for Bucky. Also doing it for him? The visible outline of Steve’s erection through the tight black fabric. Is that absolute bastard really not wearing underwear?

“It’s a surprise. You wanna come upstairs?” Steve offers one glove-clad hand, making eyes at Bucky while he does it. And okay, Bucky’s getting hard too now, because something about this feels overtly sexual. But then if it is, who the fuck is upstairs? Carefully adjusting his skinny jeans, Bucky stands up off the couch. When he meets Steve’s eyes, he watches them move back up from where they’ve been focused intently between Bucky’s legs. A flick of tongue across Steve’s lips, and Bucky feels his stomach flutter.

“Steve, you didn’t hire a sex worker or something, did you?” Bucky asks. There was a time when he imagined things like threesomes with Steve and other people pretty often. And okay, maybe he’d still like a thing like a threesome with Steve and other people. But he doesn’t want or need that right now. All he wants right now is to be close to Steve, to touch him and remind himself that he’s still there, that the fifth time is the goddamned charm or else.

“Not exactly.”

“The person upstairs. You want us to have sex with them?” Bucky asks. “Steve, I-”

“You’ll want to too. I promise.” Steve helps Bucky up the stairs, if gently squeezing and pushing on Bucky’s ass can be considered helping. He does the same when Bucky hits the landing, pushing him through the door at the top. Bucky’s reaction is nearly immediate.

“What the fuck?” Bucky blinks, staring at the man sitting on their bed. The man fidgets like he wants to jump up, patriotic blue cowl sitting beside him on the soft gray comforter. He’s in red, white, and blue—a particular iteration of the uniform that Bucky has only seen in photographs and old news reels.

And Steve looks incredible now in black, older and steadier, his beard growing back out after Bucky admitted he liked the burn lingering on his ass after Steve licked him to tears. But this Steve in a uniform that looks so much like the old Cap costume, the one he knew first? The clean face and- Bucky’s cock twitches with interest. 

Two of his favorite Steves in one room. If he could just get that little guy from Brooklyn in here too, he’d never put on clothes again.

“Bucky,” Other Steve gasps, already getting to his feet, and Bucky rounds on his Steve, finger up and pushing into his chest.

“Stevie, you absolute fucking moron, what did you do?” Bucky asks, and Steve takes him by the shoulders, firm but gentle at the same time. “Didn’t Banner say taking things out of their time would screw up the timeline? Make another one. Whatever.”

A smile slowly spreads across Steve’s face, a dangerous one that says Steve has some kind of plan that’s going to get Bucky into all the good kinds of trouble. 

“Only if I don’t take him back where I got him.”

Bucky lets that sink in, staring into Steve’s eyes. Holy shit. This brick wall of an idiot went back, fetched another version of himself, and brought him to Bucky like a present, all gift-wrapped in skin-tight spandex.

“Stevie, this is depraved, even for you,” Bucky says, because they have tried a lot of stuff since Steve let go of any lingering 40s Catholic guilt he still had post-ice. A lot of stuff that started with Bucky asking for specific things and morphed into Steve telling him what he wanted and Bucky very much agreeing, except for that one time he asked- well, not important to the situation.

Steve shrugs, looking a little smug and a lot ready to make Bucky gag and cry.

“What’s he expecting here?” Bucky asks, which has to annoy Other Steve a lot, him talking about him like he’s not there, but he seems to be patiently waiting anyhow.

“He told me I could see you,” Other Steve says, patience predictably waning. “He said there was a time and place where we were, where… Buck, please.”

Bucky turns to face Other Steve.

“Come here,” Bucky says, because he’s gotta think if there’s anything this Steve wants right now more than anything, it’s that. With a sigh of relief, Other Steve tangles them together, squeezing tight, inhaling Bucky’s smell.

“I like your hair like this,” he says, pulling back and raising a hand like he wants to touch it.

“You can touch me anywhere you want, Stevie,” Bucky says, only jumping a little when his Steve presses up against his back, erection against his ass, grinding just enough that Bucky can feel it. Bucky grinds back, even while he lets Other Steve softly pet his head and face.

“I thought you were dead,” Other Steve says. “I should’ve looked for you, but-”

“Stevie, we’ve had this conversation already. Or we will someday.” Bucky tips his forehead against Other Steve’s, sharing air, letting him have the closeness that he’s been missing since Bucky fell from the train. “We both have shit we wish had gone differently. But we got each other out of it. We got here eventually.” 

Other Steve nods, stepping back and looking Bucky over. There’s a visible war there between his need to touch and feel and his need for something more primal and carnal when he realizes what’s coming, what he could be a part of if he wanted to. Though if he ran far away from this, Bucky’s not sure he’d blame him. He won’t do that though, because he’s just an earlier version of the same Steve who cooked this whole idea up, which means some part of him wants this just as much as they do.

“You can kiss him if you want, Rogers.” Bucky’s Steve says the words low, breath teasing across the shell of Bucky’s ear. “I know you always wanted to.”

It’s dizzying and overwhelming, kissing one Steve while the other mouths and nips at the back of Bucky’s nape. It takes Other Steve a little coaxing to let go given the circumstances, but when he does, he tries to grip the back of Bucky’s neck and, finding it occupied, settles for burying his fingers in his hair instead.

“He likes it when you pull it,” Bucky’s Steve says, one hand slipping around to cup Bucky through his skinny jeans. Bucky moans delicately into Other Steve’s mouth. He moans a lot less delicately when fingers tighten in his hair and yank.

Of course Other Steve doesn’t do anything by halves. He’s still fucking Steve.

“Feeling good yet, Buck?” Bucky’s Steve asks, massaging the length of Bucky’s cock through denim and cotton, rubbing root to tip, just enough to tease.

“Mind if I try that?” Other Steve asks, and Bucky whines quietly when his Steve’s hand falls away.

“Only if you unbutton his pants first.”

“Stevie,” Bucky practically slurs.

He gets two different quiet hums in response, and something about both Steves’ voices overlapping makes his entire being quiver.

“You wanna suck his dick, don’t you?” his Steve asks, and Other Steve actually seems to choke on his own breath.

“I, uh-” Other Steve swallows, stepping back.

“I know,” Bucky’s Steve says. “But I’ll help him take good care of you, I promise.”

“Wait, wait.” Bucky steps away too, getting his Steve’s hands and mouth off him long enough to think. “This you hasn’t? Ever?”

Bucky’s Steve laughs.

“I’m not a virgin,” Other Steve says with Steve-level conviction, pulling another laugh out of Bucky’s Steve.

“He’s not,” Bucky’s Steve says. “Technically.”

“Do I wanna know?” Bucky asks.

“You didn’t know her. USO girl. I wasn’t ready for how good it feels to be inside someone. Came in three seconds. She told me it was okay. Nice girl. Licked her ‘til she ripped some of my hair out.”

Other Steve blushes furiously, and it’s for that Steve’s benefit that Bucky holds back a snort.

“Well, you don’t have that problem anymore,” Bucky says, staring at Other Steve with the most sultry look he can pull off, that face that usually riles up his own Steve enough to get Bucky thrown against walls and furniture, that gets him held down and fucked rough until he feels like nothing but cloud vapor drifting along.

“What do you think, Rogers? First mouth you ever have on you could be Bucky’s, and I’ll tell you it’s a damn good mouth.”

Bucky drops to his knees, crawling across the plush rug, catlike, predatory. Other Steve sits up straighter, like he’s about to enter into a fistfight instead of some kind of weird menage. Bucky can almost hear him say he can do this all day, and well, it wouldn’t be a lie. He and his own Steve definitely have done this all day before, alternating between slow, soft lovemaking and nearly-brutal fucking that made Bucky scream in every language he knows.

Bucky slips between Other Steve’s legs, placing his hands on his knees and sliding them up, up, up. Other Steve exhales sharply, trembling under his hands.

“I love you. So much,” he says, looking down at Bucky, and Bucky smiles, because while this isn’t his Steve, it very much is at the same time.

“End of the line, pal, that’s where we’re going.” Bucky squeezes his thighs, watching when his own Steve sits next to him on the bed, palm massaging his erection through his all black uniform. Bucky looks at him and shakes his head in amused disbelief. Steve being a bit of a weird voyeur isn’t even surprising, but this is different than even that.

“Awaiting orders, Captains,” Bucky says, and he watches his Steve smirk, feels Other Steve shudder beneath his hands. “Unless you two wanna make out. I could maybe be into that.”

And Christ, the joy of watching them both at least consider it.

“You wanna give him one?” Steve asks. “An order?”

Other Steve considers this and meets Bucky’s eyes. There’s a familiar flash of determination to not fuck this up that makes Bucky’s heart melt.

“Take off my belt.”

Bucky sits up straighter on his knees and reaches for the buckle, but this Steve stops him, one hand on the gunmetal vibranium.

“Your hand.”

“Arm,” Bucky says. “Happened when I fell. All good now.” Which, not entirely true, but the pain on his joints and muscles is so much better than it was with the Hydra arm that he doesn’t notice much anymore.

“This Stark’s?” Other Steve pushes up the sleeve a little, fascinated by the plates and how they all move together.

“You’ll find out someday,” Steve says, and Other Steve lets go of Bucky’s hand, lets him finish pulling off the utility belt and dropping it onto the floor.

“Can’t believe you let them put you back in tights,” Bucky says. “Although...”

Bucky puts his mouth against Other Steve’s crotch, easily finding his erection there under the thin fabric. This Steve is wearing underwear unfortunately, and while the pressure of Bucky’s mouth is making him pant softly, there’s not much room to go from here.

“You wanna take these off, Stevie, or should I?”

“You.” But it’s Bucky’s Steve who answers. Bucky looks over and finds the black uniform pants wide open, Steve’s hand disappearing inside the fly. He feels a small pang of loss. He’d wanted to unzip those, to put his mouth there, to-

“Is this where I make a ‘go fuck yourself’ joke?” Bucky asks, but he finds the waist of the uniform anyway, figures out whether or not it has a zipper (it doesn’t and is literally a souped up pair of goddamned tights because of course it is), and starts working the pants down Other Steve’s muscular thighs.

Nothing about this Steve’s body is a surprise or much different from the Steve beside them, but he looks damned good anyway, mouth-wateringly good the way any version of Steve Rogers always looks to Bucky Barnes. The underwear are quick to follow the pants, Bucky yanking off Other Steve’s red boots to tug everything off.

“Shirt,” Steve says, nudging Other Steve with his elbow. “He hates it when we leave the shirt on.”

“It depends really,” Bucky says, because the shirt on with no bottoms bothers him a lot, but the shirt on when they’re fucking quick and rough and Bucky’s pants are around his knees and Steve’s just got his fly open? Very good. “But yeah, please.”

“Yours first,” Other Steve says.

“Fair enough.” Bucky shrugs off the soft cotton pullover and tosses it away, leaving him bare from the waist up.

“Hell, Buck,” Other Steve says, sitting up taller to look at him. “You always were a looker, but-”

“Our best guy,” Bucky’s Steve says, eyes fluttering at whatever sensation he just gave himself with his hand still deep in his black pants. “Buck, why don’t you show our guest how good you look when you touch yourself.”

It’s easy, because the guy in front of him isn’t a stranger, not really. Bucky knows what Steve likes, and Steve is the only person he has to impress right now, sliding his mismatched hands down his own torso, highlighting the lean muscles there. Back up, he pinches his own nipples between his fingers, whimpers slightly at the good pain that brings.

Other Steve’s cock twitches where it still stands at attention, and Bucky keeps going, letting his eyes close while he does it, letting his hands dip lower and lower, teasing the waistband of his pants down a lower every time, until he’s flashing them both his own erection. When he looks back up, Other Steve is completely naked, sweat beading on his forehead, pink creeping down his chest.

Bucky doesn’t hesitate, surging forward and opening his mouth. Other Steve’s cock hits the back of his throat before he even sees Bucky coming. He swears loudly, hand flying to Bucky’s head, fingers weaving into the strands and gripping tight enough that it aches just right.

He holds Bucky there, clearly reveling in the feeling of being completely in Bucky’s mouth. At that, Bucky has to fight back a laugh, because this is exactly how his Steve reacted the first time he did this, forgetting that Bucky has to breathe sometimes. Then again, Bucky’s gotten way better at holding his breath since then, focusing instead on rubbing his tongue along Other Steve’s shaft, keeping his body calm and steady.

When Bucky finally can’t take it, he flails his flesh arm over and smacks his Steve on the leg.

“Let him up for a couple breaths and push him back down.”

Bucky gasps in a few gulps of air when Other Steve does just that, holding him up by his hair before forcing him all the way back down. He gags a bit, his own cock aching in his too-tight jeans.

“He likes this?” Other Steve asks, even while he yanks Bucky back up for a few more fleeting breaths.

“He asked me for this. Didn’t you, sweetheart?” Steve asks, drawing his hand out of his pants to take Bucky’s chin between his thumb and fingers. “God, look at you.”

Bucky blinks, and a few tears run down his cheeks even while he pants up at one Steve and then the Other.

“His lips get so red,” Bucky’s Steve says, slipping his fingers into Bucky’s mouth and pushing them back until Bucky gags softly. Someday, he suspects he’ll lose that reflex altogether. Which’ll be a bit of a shame really. That’s part of what makes it feel so filthy when Steve’s cock is fucking down his throat, when he can’t breathe or even hum because-

He gags again when Other Steve forces his face back onto his cock, his hips jerking up a little of their own accord. Bucky pulls off on his own this time, unable to stop himself from coughing and drooling and licking at the drool where it falls in strings onto Other Steve’s swollen head.

His own Steve’s jerking off again, cock pulled free from the black pants now, identical to the one Bucky’s licking his own saliva off of like a feral cat.

“How’s he doing? Hell of a lot better than Ilene, huh?”

Bucky cuts off anything Other Steve might have said by swallowing him down again, forcing his words into a strangled moan.

“Buck, stop, I’m gonna-” Too late. Other Steve comes with a familiar moan, and Bucky swallows it all down eagerly, wiping his mouth with the back of his flesh hand when he’s gotten every last drop.

Other Steve pants through the come-down, forcing himself back to Earth much faster than Bucky knows he likes to. Bucky’s about to tell him to relax when Other Steve hops up off the bed, falling onto his knees on the carpet.

“Bucky, on the bed,” he says, a sheen of sweat still glistening at his hairline. Bucky’s seen Steve run fifteen miles without breaking a sweat, but get Bucky’s mouth on him, and it’s a different story. Bucky doesn’t move, too busy looking up at him, appreciating just how it feels to be towered over by someone he loves and trusts. From behind him, another hand tangles itself in Bucky’s hair and pulls him up, Bucky’s limbs scrambling for purchase in their effort to follow.

“He said on the bed, Buck.” Bucky’s Steve practically throws him there by way of his loose bun. “By the way, Rogers, if he says ‘nine-nine’ that means stop everything.”

“Nine-nine?”

“He thought he was being funny. You’ll get the joke in a few years.”

“I _was_ being funny, Steve. I’m hilarious.”

Bucky’s Steve gives him a fond smile and pats him on the cheek, then leans over and kisses him real soft.

“You know I love you, Buck,” he says quietly, for Bucky’s benefit even though Other Steve can definitely hear it. Bucky feels his Steve’s hands working on the button of his jeans, then the zipper, kissing him until he’s got them undone and partially shoved out of the way. Other Steve seems to take over at this point, peeling them off of Bucky’s legs while he and his own Steve softly make out.

“I can’t believe I haven’t found someone better by now,” Bucky says back, leaning up to steal another kiss. Their lips and tongues move together in a well-practiced dance that lasts all of two seconds, cut off when Bucky lets out a deep moan into his Steve’s mouth, pulling back and gasping. Other Steve is there, kneeling naked between his legs, trying his best to offer a return blowjob, Bucky’s cock deep enough in his mouth to cut off his airway.

Bucky can see his muscular back and shoulders spasming with every little gag.

“Stevie, fuck,” Bucky says, because it feels incredible, the way it had that first time Steve had tried this. Before they had a conversation about how copious amounts of drool and gagging were obviously not his thing and if he’d just admit it and stop being such a goddamned stubborn-

Bucky throws his head back.

“You don’t like it. You don’t gotta-” Bucky writhes a little. It does feel good, so good, but it’s not worth it.

“He knows we don’t like this. You can stop. We got our reasons for not making each other do anything we don’t wanna do.”

Other Steve pulls off, gasping for air.

“He didn’t make me do anything,” he says, so very Steve about it that Bucky feels his mouth twitch. Bucky watches him try to steel himself to go for another round.

“Yeah yeah, I know,” Bucky’s Steve says. “And you can sure keep trying, buddy. Or I can tell you what we do to him instead if you want. I promise he likes it just as much, maybe more.”

Other Steve considers this, looking at Bucky who gives a slight nod.

“What do we do?”

“How about I show you and then you can give it a try?”

Bucky breaks into a smile at that, because he knows what’s about to happen and yes, please that, please.

Other Steve shifts to the side, making room for Bucky’s fella to slide between his thighs, pushing them apart with his hands.

“Nice and wide, Buck. There’s a good boy.”

When Bucky’s spread open and exposed, Steve dips his head down between his legs, hands sliding up under Bucky’s hips and lifting them up.

When Steve presses his tongue flat against Bucky’s puckered rim, Other Steve gasps out a quiet, “oh.” Bucky gasps too, some deep tension melting out of his bones. His Steve was right. He does love this—the slow build of it, the wetness of Steve’s mouth and the loving way he licks and laves, the friction of his beard, the feeling of Steve slipping his tongue inside.

It’s a gentle crash, the pieces of Bucky shattering and flying apart in slow motion. He’s always too far gone on Steve’s tongue to know exactly when everything happens, when he starts whimpering and begging and sobbing for more, deeper, thicker, _please_.

“Come here,” Steve says to Other Steve, moving aside and starting to work on the black uniform, stripping out of his layers. Bucky can’t focus on that though unfortunately, because Other Steve’s working on him now, licking and flicking his tongue over him with a fervor Bucky’s own Steve just doesn’t have anymore, not because he doesn’t care about Bucky just as much as this Steve, but because he’s learned to take his time, that it’s about putting the keys in the right locks, not how many times he bashes the lock with a rock.

Still, there’s something perfect about this Steve’s enthusiasm, the way he’s lapping like a thirsty animal at an oasis, the way he’s fucking Bucky on his tongue as though he has to convince him that he enjoys this. Bucky’s trembling, sobbing, and painfully hard, with a tiny pool of pre-come wetting the dark hairs on his lower stomach.

“Please, Stevie, Christ.” Tears leaking out of his eyes.

“You look gorgeous, Buck. My filthy little thing.” Bucky’s Steve, naked except for the harness because of course he’d do that to him, fucking bastard.

“Steve,” Bucky sobs, and it doesn’t matter which Steve he’s crying to. Hell, both of them probably.

“Wanna see what he feels like?” Steve asks, and the lapping finally stops. Bucky shudders out a breath, letting his thighs relax. It’s his Steve who brings a hand down on one of them, slapping at Bucky’s inner left leg. “No one said you could close those, Buck. You know better, pal, pretty little whore like you.”

“So I just…” Other Steve motions at Bucky’s body, eyes flitting back and forth between Bucky and his Steve.

Bucky’s Steve smiles and opens up the drawer to the nightstand, pulling out the lube and passing it over.

“Just get yourself wet and slide in. Go slow about it, let his body decide when you go all the way.”

Other Steve’s on top of him in a few heartbeats, or maybe it’s hours—time doesn’t make sense anymore when Bucky’s this riled up, everything too fast and too slow all at once. He presses his lips to Bucky’s before he does anything else, and then there’s the line up, the two of them still kissing lazily while this Steve starts to apply pressure, little by little.

Bucky’s own Steve slides up next to him on the right side of the bed, stroking his hair and kissing his bare shoulder and cheek and anywhere else he can reach that doesn’t interfere.

“Just relax. You’re doing so good, Buck. You should see you right now, eyelashes wet, hair tangled. What a pretty picture you make, sweetheart.” Soft kisses on the side of Bucky’s jaw, Other Steve’s mouth still on his, Other Steve’s cock breaching his body, and Bucky has never felt more cared for than he does right now, two versions of the person who loves him most right here, bathing him in kisses and indulging all those little things that make his bones sing.

“Sorry, gonna steal one of those,” Bucky’s Steve says, taking Bucky’s jaw and tilting it away from Other Steve’s face so he can kiss him too. And then without preamble, there are two tongues in Bucky’s mouth and it’s so much. So much. Bucky wants to live in this moment for the rest of time, oblivious to the comings and goings of the universe around them. Nothing but him and two Steves using him in all the ways he likes to be used, lovingly and never without Bucky wanting it. 

He moans into the shared air between all three of them when he feels his muscles relax, Other Steve sliding slowly all the way inside with a choked off grunt.

“Fuck,” Other Steve says.

“You don’t know this yet, but he’ll be the best you ever have,” Steve says, stroking Bucky’s sweaty hair back out of his face and kissing him again. “In all the ways someone can be.”

“Both,” Bucky says, the only word he can think of because he’s already losing brain function as Other Steve starts to do what one does in this type of situation, moving in out of Bucky, the stretch and fill of it already a lot even though he can’t even feel the orgasm budding yet.

“Both?” Other Steve asks, his brain function already compromised also, his face doing that stupid, sexy, adorable thing it does when he’s inside of Bucky’s ass or mouth (or on those rarer occasions when Bucky’s inside of him instead.)

“My good, dirty boy,” Steve says, planting a kiss on Bucky’s damp temple before leaning back. “Let him have you for a minute. He needs this.”

“But-”

“You need it too, Buck, I know. And you’re gonna get it. I promise.”

Bucky watches Steve slip off the bed, disappearing into the closet. His brain tries to connect that thought with what they keep in theret, but he can’t quite join the ends because Other Steve is there, whispering things in his ear that make his heart flutter in his chest. His hips snap and snap and Bucky can feel it now, the pressure starting to make a home in him.

“I’ll never love anyone else, not like this, not like you,” Other Steve says, lips dragging along Bucky’s ear and cheek in lazy kisses. “When I get here with you like he is, I’m gonna make sure you know that. I’ll never stop making sure you-”

The words come out in little bursts, strings of them with random pauses that only make sense for the way Other Steve is thrusting into him or kissing him or looking into his eyes softly and with just the right amount of possessiveness to make Bucky feel hot and wanted without crossing a line.

Bucky’s already nearing the edge of orgasm when his Steve comes back, climbing onto the bed beside them with one of Bucky’s bigger toys clenched in his hand. Bucky watches him lube it up, sex-drunk and with his jaw slacked open.

“If you want both, you’re gonna need help, don’t you think?”

“Can he- that will fit?” Other Steve asks, more in awe than anything even as he moans softly on his next thrust. And okay, if Bucky had asked that about him, one of these idiots would’ve already shoved the whole thing inside of their ass to prove a point, but whatever.

“Pull out of him and he’ll put on a show for us. Won’t you, Buck?”

Bucky grabs for the toy, shimmering with lube. Knowing he’s about to have this and then even better than this still doesn’t stop him from letting out a soft disappointed sigh when Other Steve slips out, joining Bucky’s Steve on the bed where they’re both watching him with hungry interest now.

Fuck, what a view.

It’s Other Steve who grabs Bucky by the legs and hauls him around so they can actually see when he starts to work on the toy. And it does take a considerable effort, but Bucky’s done it before and will definitely do it again. In the end, it’s probably less than five minutes before both Steve’s are jerking off, watching Bucky fuck into himself over and over, his entire body starting to coil.

“Out. Now,” Bucky’s Steve orders, with a level of authority and gravitas Bucky’s not sure Other Steve can even reach yet. Bucky obeys instantly, then revels in the praise when Steve quietly says, “good, so good for me.”

“You wanna lie down, Rogers?” he asks, gesturing toward the bed, and Other Steve does just that. It’s Bucky’s move now, climbing on top of him and sinking down, giving him a quick little ride before his Steve settles in behind him and shoves Bucky forward with a large hand between his shoulder blades. A little reward for compliance in the form of him nuzzling into the same spot, beard raking over Bucky’s bare skin.

Other Steve surges up to kiss him then, distracting Bucky from the intense feeling of his Steve pushing inside his seemingly already full hole. He can feel his Steve’s hand too, gently stroking his bare skin while he works on giving Bucky exactly what he asked for.

It’s the eye of the hurricane when they finally manage it—a moment of accomplished silence where no one moves, stretching on indefinitely, the fullness so intense that Bucky feels his eyes well up. And then chaos when the wall hits, both Steves like a train leaving the station, picking up speed and working to find a rhythm in a piston dance that could be either synchronicity or a fight—Bucky’s not sure and probably never will be.

The near-orgasm he had earlier comes screaming back, electricity in his veins, pressure building much faster this time.

Then the moaning—both Steves’ voices blending together in harmony, every sound nearly the same, overlapping like waves meeting in the ocean—too much for Bucky to handle mentally, his arousal spiking into great white-capped peaks that have him nearly shaking to pieces.

“Steve,” he moans, filthy and whorish and there are hands on him everywhere.

He hears “Bucky” and “Buck” back in return and he’s not sure who moaned what and it doesn’t fucking matter.

“Gonna, Stevie, can-”

Lips on his mouth, lips on the back of his neck, teeth sinking into the muscles there and making Bucky moan into the mouth on his mouth and-

“Stevie, please.”

“Such a good boy, Bucky. What do you think, Rogers? Want him to come all over you?”

“Never wanted anything else.”

Soft words and a kiss on the skin right below his ear lobe.

“Come for us, Bucky.”

Bucky does, almost on cue, groaning fiercely in a way that comes out just this side of a sob, which is exactly what it turns into when neither Steve stops fucking him. Bucky’s hands fly to Other Steve’s shoulders, gripping and digging and scraping and scratching, leaving red marks all over his arms and shoulders that are already fading by the time he leaves more.

“Oh Christ, Steve.”

“Almost, Bucky. Almost. You love it when I come in you, huh? Now we’re both gonna do that, get you good and full.”

“Fuck.” Bucky is crying now, but it feels so good, so overwhelmingly good and he wants it to stop so much but he never ever wants it to stop for as long as he’s still breathing. He keeps gripping, leaving half-moons on Other Steve’s biceps. Everyone is panting, groaning, whimpering in one big cacophony of sound.

Other Steve comes first, a little look of surprise on his face before he throws his head back. Like a domino effect, there’s Bucky’s Steve behind him with a near-identical groan. And then nothing, just Bucky feeling sated and fucked-out with the sounds of panting surrounding him on all sides.

His Steve pulls out first and Bucky can feel it, all the impossible amounts of come that follow when he does. When he finally eases up off Other Steve, there’s so much of it there pooling on his skin. Bucky dutifully licks him clean and then collapses on the bed.

Christ, he loves this part, the part where he feels like a balloon released into the atmosphere, floating away into the vast night sky, just another thing existing among the stars and satellites.

“I love you, Stevie, both of you,” Bucky says. 

“I love you too, Buck,” they say back, one voice an echo of the other.

“When do I have to go home?” Other Steve asks, already looking sad at the thought of leaving this behind. And Bucky feels for him, for the time he’ll have to wait until they see each other again, for the pain yet to come and all the times they’ll be pulled apart before they snap back together again like magnets, never giving up on each other or on this. But he can’t know that, not yet. 

“I think we’ll be safe enough if I wait to take you back in the morning”

“Good.”

And that’s the last they talk of it until sunrise. Other Steve asks a few questions, things with answers that aren’t grounded in his own future. When did Bucky know he loved him? Does he remember that time in the war when Morita…? Do they feel at home in this time now? Are they happy enough?

Some things, they don’t answer, not because they really risk the timeline if they do, but because sometimes it’s better to find out things when you’re supposed to.

“I’m glad I could be here to see this,” Other Steve says. “Coming out of the ice alone was- Well, I don’t have to tell you what it was like.”

“I know, but if you keep going the way you’re going, you’ll find home again. A better home even than the one we left back then.”

Bucky lets them fold him in between them, Other Steve tucking his head up under his chin and peppering kisses on Bucky’s chest, Bucky’s Steve curling an arm over him and tickling the back of his neck with his beard.

And that’s how he falls asleep, surrounded by the warmth of two Steves who snore exactly the same annoying way, with Asimov purring down by their feet.

He dreams of falling from the train, but he’s not afraid this time. At the bottom of the gorge, the Bucky he is now waits to catch him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter [@BiStarBucky](https://twitter.com/BiStarBucky)


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